“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” she laughed.
Chris went on to tell me where she was at, and what she had learned about Richard’s movements. We decided to do another concentrated search around the apartment building area, where Chris and I lived for a month. Granted, Chris had lived there a lot longer than I had, but since it was where I fell in love with her, I only think about that one solitary month.
Before I meet up with Chris and George, I wanted to take one more look around the alley that caused Chris to go into a tailspin. The alley was like all the others, dirty and dark, with garbage overflowing the bins and bums sleeping in hidden crevices, clutching their liquor bottles tight. Was that where Chris had woken up from her binge drinking? Is that the bum she woke up on? That vision conjured in my mind gave me the willies, and I understood how it must have terrified Chris.
Chris — George and I waited for Melinda at the shelter, and ended up volunteering to serve lunch to the sudden crowd of people who formed a line at the food line.
“Where did all these people come from?” I asked the priest who ran the shelter.
“A lot of them are displaced workers, who can’t find a job. They come here to supplement their food allowance,” he said as he scooped up some mashed potatoes and plopped them on a metal tray, and then handed it to the grateful woman standing in line.
Toward the end of the rush, I saw Melinda get in line. I assumed she was being polite and was just waiting her turn to talk with me, but when she picked up a metal tray and a fork, I laughed, knowing that she intended to eat. The priest urged George and I to eat something as well, so after serving Melinda, which she milked for all it was worth, we sat down together for a quick lunch of bland meatloaf and soupy mashed potatoes.
I repeated to Melinda what I had told her on the phone. “The priest said that Richard comes in here every couple of days, but that he doesn’t talk to anyone. The priest has only ever been able to get his first name, but he’s pretty sure that he’s the man we’re looking for.”
“So what’s our next step?” Melinda asked.
George said, “First we need to stop by the store and get a roll of Tums. This awful meatloaf is going to be the death of me.”
Melinda laughed. “George, you’re a culinary snob.”
“Guilty as charged,” he replied, pushing his tray with its half-eaten meatloaf away from him.
Chuckling at his antics, I looked around at the people finishing their meals and disappearing out the door, back to job hunting, I presume. I noticed that on the drab gray walls, there were a few old movie posters, mixed in with AIDS posters and some old VD posters. Subliminal thinking in that the movie posters draw your eye, so that you can’t help but see the message of the clinical posters. Clever.
“I’ve got an idea.” They stopped and looked at me, “Let’s put one of Richard’s movie posters up there on the wall, and see if he responds to it.”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Melinda exclaimed.
I stood up. “You two finish your lunch, and I’ll go talk with the priest.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll call up a bookstore I know of, and see if they can find us a poster of one of Richard’s movies.” Melinda pulled her cellphone from her jeans pocket. “They were very helpful in finding those posters of Norma for me.”
“What can I do to help?” George asked.
“Your job is to find those Tums you were talking about. And make sure they’re fruit flavored, too,” Melinda said seriously, thumping her chest as if she already had indigestion.
George grinned. “Aha, you’re having trouble with the meatloaf, too, aren’t you?”
She ignored him and hit the redial button on her phone.
I found the priest in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the dirty dishes. “Father, can I speak with you for a moment?”
I explained to him my idea and he was very willing to help, but he suggested that most alcoholics like Richard have a hard time seeing small objects, so we should probably make the poster extra-large. That made sense to me.
I rejoined Melinda and George and told them what I had learned.
And like the well-oiled team we were becoming, Melinda reported her findings to the group. “Well, the book store contacted an outlet in LA and they have what we’re looking for. I asked that the posters be overnighted, so we will have them tomorrow. And I guess we can find a printer in town who can enlarge them, right?”
“Oh sure, there’s a ton of printers in Memphis who can do the job for us,” I assured her.
“All right then, what shall we do with the rest of the day? Keep looking around, or go home and jump in the hot tub again?” Melinda said with a wink of her eye.
“I vote for the hot tub,” George stated, which suddenly put a vision in my head that made me want to gag.
Melinda excused herself, I assumed to use the restroom, but then I thought that was not like her to use a public restroom, so I watched her go back behind the counter. She was handing the priest something, and by the way his mouth gaped open, and his eyes grew large, I knew it had to be money that she was giving him. God, I love that woman.
The next day, we received the posters, and Melinda and I drove downtown and had them enlarged. Then we drove over to the shelter, and with the priest’s help, hung them up on the walls. Now all we could do was wait and see if Richard comes in and sees them.
Chapter Thirteen
Come to Jesus Meeting — Chris Livingston
In the South, we like to say that we need to have a “Come to Jesus meeting”, usually when a loved one is behaving irrationally and needs to be made aware of it. Sort of like what Norma did for Melinda and me when she thought we were angry with each other. But I think it can also refer to my situation, where I behaved irrationally, and someone I don’t know paid the price for it.
Meg found out that Thomas Clemens was agreeable to meet this coming Sunday morning. I couldn’t be more afraid than if I were meeting Jesus, himself. Well, that’s a lie, I would be more afraid to meet Jesus before I atoned for my sins.
The worst part was having three days to worry about it. Even though it was almost the weekend, Sunday seemed a thousand years away. Melinda tried to interest me in one of her thousands of video games, but I just didn’t have the patience, or the desire to walk over dead zombie bodies so I could collect money, or bullets, or whatever it was. The games were just a little too real for me right now. So she changed her tactics and did her best to keep me occupied with wild, carnal sex, or slow, methodical sex, or even just a hint of having sex. That tactic worked much better, and while I was distracted for a while, once the euphoria evaporated, I was left with only trepidation.
Norma tried to distract me with funny tales of her movie career, and I laughed appropriately, but I asked her to please tell them to me again later, when I could really enjoy them. She assured me that she would be happy to bore me silly with them again and again.
George seemed to keep a low profile after I unintentionally snapped at him. I guess I did that because of he was my least favorite person in the house. It wasn’t fair to George, but it was extremely helpful to me. I made a mental note to give him a proper apology after Sunday was over with.
Even Charlotte, our stoic butler, seemed to be more attentive toward me, if that were possible. She brought me food and beverages whether I asked for them or not and kept our talkative new maid away from me for fear she would fray my already tattered nerves with her babbling. Charlotte was right.
Once my parents learned of the date for the meeting, my mother moved in with us. She stayed in the guest bedroom on Norma’s wing, and the three of us, my mom, Norma and I, made so many different desserts that I’m sure I put ten pounds on, and probably twenty pounds on George and Melinda, who benefited the most from our experiments.
Mom and I had a good time, reminiscing about my childhood. Not the teenage years, but the years where I was still young and innocent. That was one memory lane that I
really needed to walk down I was so grateful that my mom knew that.
I know how blessed I am to have my family and friends and the love of my life by my side for what will surely be the most difficult afternoon of my life. And while I’m grateful that they have forgiven me, I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. I don’t know that I should.
Found Him! — Melinda Blackstone and Chris Livingston
I woke up thanking God that it was Friday. Just two more days, and it will all be over with. I had a sudden chill run down my spine, because my brain started imagining things. I shook it off. I’m not about to go down that ‘what if’ path and get myself distracted. I needed to stay sharp and be attentive to Chris. She needs me to be there for her.
While we were eating breakfast, my cellphone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket and read the text. Oh thank God. This will be a good distraction for her. Then I waved my phone at Chris. “Hey, I got the bat signal, we need to go.”
Bat signal? “Melinda, what are you talking about?”
“I got a text from the good Father. Richard is at the shelter right now.”
“What are we waiting for then? Come on Robin, let’s go!” Chris gulped her orange juice down and grabbed a sausage from her plate before she got up to leave.
I argued with her all the way to the car. “Robin? Yeah, I think perhaps you got the characters mixed up. I’m Batman, and you’re Robin.”
“Why do you get to be Batman?” Chris whined. “Just because you wear a lot of black, and have black hair, doesn’t make you Batman.”
“Well, the other night when I wore the leather pants and put on that cape, you were more than happy to let me be Batman.”
Chris laughed. “Is that who you were trying to impersonate?”
“Yeah, what did you think?”
“I couldn’t think because the sight of you in leather was enough to palpate my heart.” Chris fanned herself as if she were visualizing me in leather again.
I think I found one of her hidden erogenous zones. I decided that I will need to exploit that one every chance I get.
This time I drove the Lambo to get us there quicker, and luckily, since it was a Saturday, traffic was lighter at that time of day, and we made good time. George had been on the phone with one of his clients, so we didn’t wait for him. He’ll be sorry he missed it, because as I parked my car, a police car pulled up, its siren blaring, and blue lights glaring off the building.
Chris and I followed the policeman inside, where we heard a deep voice before we saw the man who owned it, bellowing every cussword he knew. His anger was directed at the priest, and he was holding one of the posters I had hung on the wall. I looked closer and recognized that it was Richard, looking much the way he did a few months ago when Chris and I went to the alley and gave him some food. And although I doubt he expended the effort to shave, ever, he didn’t have a beard, just facial stubble, adding to his homeless look. Wearing a moth-eaten overcoat, that was more brownish than the original black color I could tell it once was, Richard also wore a cap with ear flaps, and the quintessential gloves with the fingertips cut out.
Without thinking, I jumped in before the cop could arrest him.
“Richard, hey, big fella, do you remember me? You offered to sleep with me once.”
Richard stopped cussing and looked at me through booze-blurry eyes. But the supply of liquor flowing through his veins was beginning to taper off, which meant he was becoming sober. I knew I only had a few minutes before he realized it, too, and went looking for his next bottle. I led him to a table, where the occupants quickly picked up their trays and moved. I imagine they see this kind of thing all the time, and except for the families who protectively wrapped their arms around their children, everyone else went on as if nothing had happened.
While I worked with Richard, Chris distracted the police officer. I heard her explain to him, in front of the priest, that it was all her fault. I didn’t catch much more of her conversation because Richard was beginning to shake.
“Richard, Norma sent me to take care of you.”
Richard grumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t understand.
“Did you hear me? Norma sent me to help you.”
Norma had told me about her love affair with Richard, and how he still pined for her, as she put it. But he stole from her, items that held a huge sentimental value for her, and then years ago she had loaned him a large sum of money, presumably to pay off a debt, but he turned around and lost it all at the gambling table. That’s when she broke it off for good. She said that Richard hung around her apartment for years and would, on occasion, stand under her window and call to her, but after chastising him a time or two, she ignored him altogether. I think though, that there is still love there.
I Feel So Helpless — Felicia Livingston and Norma Shelby
Christine and the others had left, hoping to find Richard, Norma’s friend, and so Norma and I sat in the living room, enjoying an afternoon glass of tea. The television was on and turned to the news station, but I muted the sound because the news was always so depressing. Or perhaps it wasn’t really the news putting me in a pensive mood. It was my daughter and her adamant determination to find the man her father and I made sure would disappear. Since the girls were so close to Norma, and because of that, I have come to greatly respect her as well, I thought I would see what she thought of the situation.
“You remind me a lot of my mother, Norma. She loved your movies, by the way, that’s why I know so much about your career. I think my mother saw in you something she was missing in herself. She was never very adventurous, not like Chris is.”
“That’s so sweet of you to say, dear. I’m flattered. I must admit, I see a little bit of myself in Chris. But then, I must also admit that I see a lot of myself in Melinda.” Norma grinned. “They are both very dear to me.”
“I gave birth to that child of mine, twenty-six years ago, but today, she has a soul older than I am, maybe even older than you, Norma.”
“I think that’s what led me to trust her, her maturity,” said Norma.
“Chris thinks the world of you, Norma, and so do I. That’s why I know I can trust your opinion. What do you think about Chris meeting with Tom, the man she hit with her car?”
Norma shook her head. “Oh no, dear, that’s not for me to say,”
“Please, Norma. I need someone to talk to about this, and I can’t talk to my husband. He doesn’t want her to go because it might upset their settlement, and he refuses to speculate on what it could mean to Chris. I think he’s probably afraid.”
“I imagine that both of you are afraid she’ll go back to drinking again, am I right?”
“Yes, you are right. I can’t think of anything worse than her drinking again.”
“I can. Chris seems to need this so much, as if it will save her immortal soul. My feeling is that Chris would have sacrificed her life to save her soul, if that’s what it would take.”
“Oh dear Lord!” I was shaking over her revelation. Surely she was wrong, she had to be wrong. Not my little girl, not my baby. It took me a minute to settle my mind so I could hear what Norma was saying.
Norma held up her hand. “Please, let me finish, it’s not what will happen.”
My voice was hoarse from straining against tears when I asked, “How do you know, Norma?”
“Because,” Norma patted my hand, “she has you and her father again, and Melinda, whom she loves with all her heart. As painful as it might be, she would not do anything that desperate that would cause you pain. Not again. Not after all she went through to start over.”
My eyes blurred as my tears spilled over. I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even bother to try. My doctor told me that a good cry helps release the tension that drives the blood pressure up. My pressure has been high for years now, because of worry, and right now I could feel it pounding in my ears, so I allowed my tears to flow. I pulled some tissue from my pocket.
“There’s
one thing you need to consider, dear,” Norma said.
I swallow the tears back. “What’s that?”
“That she will find absolution, and be able to let it go.”
“Oh, pray God, she does.”
Paying It Forward, Case #1 – Success, of a Sort — Chris Livingston, Melinda Blackstone, and Richard Burke
I was able to assuage the police officer with my explanation that we had intentionally hung those movie posters up to get Richard’s attention. We just didn’t realize that he might not want to see a giant version of himself staring down at him. I apologized to the officer and the priest, and assured them that we would take care of Richard. The officer made a point to caution me about how to handle drunks, and then tried to frighten me with his explicit details about drunks who are combative. I wasn’t about to tell him that I knew all of that already because I had lived it.
After the officer left, without arresting Richard, I joined Melinda. She was showing him the photo of Norma she had taken on her cellphone, back at the old apartment.
“Norma!” He dropped the wadded-up movie poster and snatched the cellphone out of Melinda’s hands. He brought it up to his nose, so he could see it better.
“Norma sent us to help you, Richard. She’s worried about you,” Melinda said.
“She’s worried? About me? Fat chance,” he retorted.
That was a curious thing to say. “Why do you say that? Norma is the one who sent us to find you.”
“Because, all she cares about is the money I owe her. Good luck collecting that now, bitch.”
Melinda and I looked at each other in shock. What the hell?
“Um, Richard,” I broached my question carefully, “we thought you were in love with her? Isn’t that the reason you hung around her apartment all those years, so you could be near her?”
“Love? Maybe once, a long time ago.” His answer only spurred more questions from us.
Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2) Page 15
